Lost in the pickers

At least, that's what I call them. Here they're known as sand spurs. The little burrs on the end of the stalks fly off at the slightest disturbance and poke you, and then when you pull them out, the little barbs on the end don't want to let go.

Today we took a side track and ran smack into a patch of the damn things. Daisy got them in all four paws so I ended up carrying her out of there. I hate them, I do.

Dog fennel

Dog fennel smells so sweet out in the preserve. I could stand in the middle of it forever and not get tired of it. Such a silly name. The plants grow in great big clumps, like green and white fox tails. Steve says it smells like dill when he crushes it in his fingers. I think it smells like green.

Patience is rewarding

Daisy is watching a man with a beautiful border collie walk down the trail. I made her sit while they went by and she was doing fine until the man's dog made a move in her direction, and then she leaped towards them. After making her sit again, I decided to wait for a while before continuing.

I am trying to teach Daisy to be calm around other dogs and people. This requires a lot of patience on my part and I don't have any, so it's something I'm learning as we go.

It helps to have a camera when you're learning patience. While waiting for my dog to become resigned to the fact that we weren't going anywhere and the man with the collie wasn't coming back, I began taking pictures of what was around us.

I like this one because there are layers of color—green, lavender, brown and gold as well as layers of depth—undergrowth, tree trunks, mist and sky.

Here are a couple more, same spot, one left and one right.